San Antonio daily light. [volume] (San Antonio, Tex.) 1886-1907, 1887-08-15
DISAPPEARED.

The blacks are assembled in great numbers
in the bay Of Baleines There are more than
1000 of these ferocious men with their thick
lips and muscular arms. They have sur
prised the midshipman and the thirty ma
rines sent to renew the water provision Of the
war ship Naiad. Over there, on the tranquil
waves, the corvette rocks herself under closely
reefed sails; over here, in the midst of the
tall grass, the umbrella like palms and death
distilling euphorbia, in the midst of the fig
trees and the rank vegetation, terrible bat
tie is going on. The sailors were prudently
and wisely beating retreat, crouching and
crawling through the weeds to escape the
deadly arrows which whistle above their
heads to strike with dull thud against the
trunks of the trees. But every ball sent in
return mows down u heap of negroes, the
shouts and yells of the rest of the band
drowning their screams of agony
The marines were endeavoring to regain
their vessel without abandoning the water
casks, and even as they retreated rolled and
pushed them before them. They would not
have given them up at this hour for three
months pay. Two Of them were hit by the
arrows and fell. 1t was useless to stop for
them-useless to carry them away; they were
already the same as dead; the arrows were
invariably poisoned. The Damaras close in
around them, but they have reached the
beach; twenty muskets burst forth at once
and the negroes stop. The order is given
and the ships boats dart from the shore.
Suddenly voice is heard: "The lieutenant,
men; the lieutenant Where is he's" The
question is answered by a cry of distress-an
~ 1f11gfA l.
manded them to retreat; he cannot be far
from the coast. and his men will have him,
dead or alivel
Again the boats touch the sands, enter q
little creek and ascend its limpid current.
The Damaras are not there; believing the
sailors to have rejoined their vessel, they have
disappeared from sight. The bodies Of
their comrades remain where they had fallen,
already tumefied and swollen; one of them
without his head; the savages had carried il
away.
They ransack the hills, beat the thickets, SET
fire to the underground, call and shout aloud;
nothing responds even the blacks, What.
then, has become of the leutenant2 Night
draws on, the night Of the equator, brief,
gloomy and without twilight. DESPAIR
seizes the searchers, for they do not wish to
leave the land, hostile though it is, without
carrying with them the officer whom they
love so well.
Soon they will be hundreds of leagues
away; tomorrow the sun will scorch him,
the wild beasts tear his flesh and venomous
reptiles crawl upon him; they can not 90 and
leave him thusl
At this moment a laundering sound, a
long, reverberating roar rolls across the
wave; it is the cannon of the Naiad calling
them to return. Grinding their teeth with
rage, their bronzed cheeks wet with tears, the
men obey, board the boats, seize the oars and
make for the vessel. At their feet, in the
bottom of the boats, wrapped in pieces Of
sailcloth, lie the bodies Of their murdered
comrades, the one without a head, the other
disfgured by the. frightful action of the poi.
sonous euphorbia.
And night falls upon this fleet Of DEATH
disappeared" that Is what they've told
her; cher son has disappeared!o She is seated
in the corner Of the fireside, this woman in
black, this inconsolable daughter, wife and
mother OF soldiers. Her father had lost his
life at Saint Jean d'Ulloa, her husband at the
storming Of the Balaklava, her son-but
where was her SOM For six months she had
heard nothing, known nothing but that he
has disappeared" and for six months she has
never spoken except to repeat that hideous,
that terrifying word. Near her, upon her
knees, crying silently and in the shadow, that
her tears may not disturb this speeches. des-
olation, Is the nurse who has the care of her,
And it has been six long months since this
anguished mother has moved to seek repose.
or noticed what was passing before her eyes
six months since she has stirred from her
place and this infexible contemplation.
For whom does she waltz For the absent
the absent who can never return, though the
troubled soul of the mother wills it.
The door of the room by which he entered,
in days gone by, smiling and happy, to say
Good morning, motherl"-the door through
which he had gone upon the voyage from
which he had never returned-is closed and
bolted-still the mother waitsl
The long nights of winter have come, with
their mantle of mist and snow; the days
pass in silence and sorrow as before. In the
dull, deserted country around this isolated
dwelling vague noises sound-the steps of the
peasants who stop to cross themselves before
the crucitix by the wayside; the lamentable
complaints of wandering dogs, who howl be-
fore approaching death. Within the flicker
ing lamp lights the chamber as family as a
tomb. Sitting her sobs, the nurse at last
rises from her knees and places upon little
table the customary food which sustains this
shadow.
"Madamep she cries, bending over the al
most insensible woman. There is no reply.
Madame" repeats the servant, softly pulling
her by the sleeve.
All at once the changeless face brightens, a
smile like ray Of sunshine passes over the
pallid lips. The door-that condemned and
bolted doors opening With a cry Of ter
ror the nurse falls upon her knees and prays,
for it is he-the lost, the disappeared
sonl
He comes straight to his mother, waiting,
and for himl The lamp flickers and goes ont,
but strange light envelops the visitor. Is
it the white light of the moon that surrounds
him as with an impalpable mantlel And on
he glides in this vaporous luster, softly and
quietly, without raising an echo. All, but he
is palel Nevertheless it is he himself, with
the same dark eyes they knew so well, and
the capricious masses of blonde curls that
lent such an aureole of glory to his 20 years.
He has a smile upon his lips-the same sweet
smile Of his infancy. Not a spot defaces the
neatness of his uniform, not speck of mud:
only, and it is very strange, upon his neck
his white, athletic neck-there Is a deep red
mark, a wound, in fact, from which slowly
issues the crimson blood